young not quite yet famous poet and writer.

Post navigation

Children’s garden

He slipped his tiny hand into my unassuming one. a perfect baby angel with his two front teeth missing and heart perfectly intact. He tickled my elbow with his other hand and I nearly fell off the stone steps in fright. When I finally started breathing he took my heart and he kept it. Josephat. His name as old and dull as he was not. Animated and slightly muddy, he sang me a hymn and told me a story; All the while guarding my hand like it was the Holy Grail of appendages.

For a while he disappeared (as angels are wont to do) and I got to talking to the other children at the home. Hearing the tragedies that had brought them to this place broke my heart. Then they spoke about how the children’s garden was the best thing that had ever happened to them. How much they love “daddy” zand how happy they are to get an education.

Josephat came back all clean and shiny (as angels are wont to be). Even his sandals were spotless. He smiled at me and I believed them. I believed each one of those kids who said that a lifetime of hurts can change with a simple decision; By answering one question in the affirmative: Do you want a better life?

When “daddy” asked these children that as they wasted away on the streets, each answered with an unequivocal “Yes!”

So here we found them and here they stay till the next opportunity to make something better of themselves arises.

As I leave, my baby angel clings on to me. He will not let go. I ask him what he’ll be up to till I get back. “Missing you” he replies.